Brothers In Arms
by milkshake42
Summary: An old friend steps into Chuck's life, someone that he's not seen since his days at Stanford. A someone who just happens to have a few secrets of his own. Season 2-ish Chuck and AU!SPN.
1. In The Beginning

Zork. One of the most awesome classic video games in the entire world. And when two nerds with a passion for playing awesome video games meet, it's like the world stops. Well, in their minds anyway.

So begins the tale of I, Charles Bartowski, and my ex-best-friend-now-dead-nemesis-who-was-actually-just-protecting-me, Bryce Larkin. That fateful ninth day into the Stanford class of 2003's four years of schooling was the same fateful day that our friendship began.

Enter Zork. Bryce happened to stumble upon my mad gaming skills out of plain curiosity. I was sitting on a bench after my afternoon classes that autumn day, not expecting to meet someone who'd become one of my best friends.

To be honest, I didn't even realize him as I sat down and looked over my notes from my latest class. Stanford was tough, and if I wanted to even think about keeping my scholarship, I had to work hard or I could say goodbye to my far off degree. I placed my trusty copy of C++ on the bench and didn't even think about it until I heard someone mention it.

I have to admit even I was a little dazzled when I looked up and saw the guy that I supposed was a jock. Yeah, I was embarrassed to admit that I was planning on reprogramming Zork, but the guy surprisingly thought it was a good idea and introduced himself as Bryce Larkin. He even offered to introduce me to one of the few girls in Stanford who actually appreciated video games, but I didn't get the chance meet Jill Roberts until class the next day.

We started hanging out after that brief experience and he even got me out of my crappy dorm and into the frat house he stayed at. The big guy Bryce was sharing a room with eventually decided he had had enough of his roommate sneaking in at a horrendous hour every morning after helping me out with Zork and threatened me to swap rooms with him. Well, I like to think of it as more of 'asked' because he only had to shove me once and I was ready to accept without any violence.

My new roommate was, well... a stud, to put it lightly. All the girls would drool over him and he didn't seem to have noticed even though he had been passed a dozen or so phone numbers every day. This was the reason as to why I was so surprised to find out he spent quite a lot of time playing video games and adored Zork.

So became our weekly ritual. We'd put aside Thursday night, no homework, no distractions, and would order in something then gather around a TV or computer and play something, or work on Zork. The games we played were usually classics that we had practically grown up with, like _Mario_, but we'd sometimes chip in together to get the latest instalment.

And so our friendship grew. Since I was studying computers, I was able to save our frat house's beloved PC when a nasty virus overtook it and save our game in the process. The hardest thing Bryce had to do during our first semester was turn down several girls pining after him.

Our fairytale companionship did hit a few bumps and bruises down the road, not everything going as smooth as we had planned. Gaming Thursday eventually became Go Out With Friends Thursday. We'd hit the local bar, just me, Bryce, Jill and a girl from her sorority, Jessica Moore.

Yeah, Jess and Jill were cute, but it's not like they'd ever fall for a guy like me. They were both studying Bio, something well beyond my understanding. Jess tried to explain to me that bodies were just like computers: each part played a different yet equally important role, but the explanation didn't really get beyond that. She didn't know enough about computers to get beyond how they could both do amazing things.

After a snowy winter break that had been spent with my dearly missed sister who was about to head to med school and my best friend Morgan who had gotten a job at a Buy More, I returned to school, expecting things to pretty much be the same as they had over the past few months. How wrong I was.

Jill suddenly expressed a strong desire into knowing how I was and when I was free. Being new to the strange experience, I was oblivious to the signs until Bryce was kind enough to point out the fact that she liked me. I was so shocked that I sat staring at a blank wall instead of finishing off an assignment for an hour. We began dating sometime in our second year.

I also began to become a little better known amongst my fellow nerds through a total accident. It all began when I had accidentally made a virus worse instead of getting rid of it in one of my classes. After several hours of anxiously wondering if the computer would make it, Professor McCain congratulated me on being the first student to ever conjure a computer problem that had baffled even him. Ever. After some practice, I was able to whip it up whenever it was requested and it became known as the 'Bartowski Special'.

As un-huge as the final change was, it wasn't really expected and it changed all of our lives. Bryce and I were called into the counsellor's office one day to discuss a new student that would be starting up at school. He was so smart that Stanford wanted him as soon as possible rather than having him wait for another eight or so months to begin school in September. He had accepted the challenge to catch up on work and put extra effort into his classes.

Me and Bryce were asked if he'd be able to make him feel welcome and crash on our floor since our room was slightly bigger than the others, just until a free room opened up when the graduates left in September. We accepted, excited to meet the guy who'd hopefully become a friend, but we were still slightly reluctant. Would he out nerd us?

A lanky looking guy walked into the office a few minutes after we had given the OK. I was surprised to see he was my height, if not taller, which was a pleasant change from my usual towering over people. He looked at the floor nervously for most of the time the counsellor blabbered on, but smiled and began talking when we walked back to the frat house. And so began Sam Winchester's days at Stanford.

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><p><strong>This story is something that just kind of happened without me planning, and I have a very basic idea of where it going. This'll be completely AU!SPN, meaning no hunting, no monsters etc., but still all the characters. Please review and tell me if I should continue with it or not! :D<strong>


	2. Two Becomes Three

**Sorry for this taking so long. Every time I opened the document, my mind just went compltely blank. So I eventually managed to write this, and while I don't think it's the best, it's something. Thanks to everyone who added this to their alerts/favourites and to my one reviewer. I appreciate them all sincerely :)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own SPN or Chuck. The two just weirdly merge in my mind and outcomes the product you're about to read. Enjoy!**

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><p>Sam Winchester was what he looked like: a very tall, pretty shy guy. He wasn't into sports like I first assumed he would be because of his build, and instead was quite a gentle person who didn't protest once to sleeping on the floor or to his roommates coming in at the early hours of the morning. We didn't see him much during his first few weeks at Stanford, partly because he had heaps of work to catch up on, partly because I think he felt kind of awkward.<p>

He was a third wheel to mine and Bryce's perfect friendship in a way, but you don't really admit that to someone you just met. We invited him out of politeness to join us at the bar with Jill and Jess, but he declined, saying it wasn't really his scene. I understood: I've never been the partying type either, but I did enjoy the good company.

Our two female companions had the luck to go on to Washington for a lecture on Evolution about half way through the semester, so Bryce pulled out our designs for Zork one Thursday night. We dragged two chairs over to a table and, since our discussion got rather intense, we missed the faint sound of the room's door opening.

"Is that Zork?" We flipped around to find that Sam had entered our dorm, his bag half way off his shoulder, a look of boyish excitement little kids got whenever they were told they would in fact be allowed to eat ice-cream instead of dinner.

Bryce nodded cautiously, his eyebrows lost amongst his bangs. Had we had the luck of landing one of the few people at Stanford who were interested in video games as a roommate? He explained that we were redesigning the game and Sam lapped up the information with wide eyes.

"You're really smart enough to do that?"

I blushed at the comment and gave a modest nod. It only took one glance at Bryce before I asked him the question we'd been contemplating for weeks. "Would you be willing to give it a shot? We've been looking for a guinea pig."

I passed him my laptop reverently and Sam sat on the ground, back against the wall. He tapped the keyboard as the game started up, anxiously awaiting it to load. I glanced at Bryce once again and was glad to see that he looked as excited as I felt.

The remainder of the night was spent in a friendly banter, all three of us joining in. The conversation began with Sam commenting on the beginning of the game and how great it was, but it eventually turned to the subject of school, then other hobbies, and, I'm slightly ashamed to admit it, but girls somehow managed to sneak their way in too.

By two AM I felt like I knew Sam Winchester and Bryce Larkin back to front, and I'm sure they felt the same about me. Sam had finished what we had done so far on Zork around midnight and had decided that we could probably make a healthy fortune off it when it was finished. The conversation reluctantly drew to a close when I reminded everyone that we still had one more day of class before the weekend officially began.

I came home from my final class late Friday afternoon to find the dorm empty and a note from Bryce saying that Ellie had called him because she couldn't get hold of me. A faulty pipe had burst at her place and she needed me to come over to help her clean up. The rest of the note gave a quick explanation of how he had convinced Sam to start the weekend by having a couple of drinks and told me how they'd so graciously be thinking of me. Well, at least until they were too wasted to remember or think of anything. With the thought of my dear sister waiting, I quickly shoved some clothes and my toothbrush into a backpack and began the drive back to Burbank.

It was nice to see Ellie after a couple of months. The flooding wasn't actually that bad and I could tell that she had over-exaggerated the situation so I would hang around for a few days. And that's exactly what I did. I left on Sunday night with a promise hanging over my head that I would come home for spring break.

I walked into the dorm at about eleven PM and found that our room was illuminated only by the computer screen. Bryce looked over from it and raised a finger to his lips when he saw it was me, then grinned and cocked his head in the direction of my bed. My eyes slowly adjusted to the light and there, lying on my bed, was a sleeping Sam. Jessica Moore's head was resting on his chest and his arms were wrapped around her.

Bryce caught me up on how they had ran into Jess when they went to the coffee shop for a remedy to their hangover on Saturday morning. The chemistry between the two had been undeniable, even to a Bio student, and they had spent the rest of the weekend together, eventually ending up where they were.

I had to smile whenever I saw Jess and Sam walking around campus holding hands or studying together in the library. It was nice to see my friend step of his comfort zone and get the perfect girl for him.

Our next two years at Stanford were pretty uneventful to our first. Sam, as promised by counselor, moved out of our room when some of our frat brothers left, but he spent so much time in ours that it didn't seem like he'd moved next door. The thoughts Zork were replaced by endless notes as end of year exams loomed closer and closer, but it was our occasional way to blow off steam.

It was finished by the mid-way through our third year. Bryce, Sam and I celebrated by having a game of Gotcha! in the library (yes, we were still so mature that we couldn't resist the occasional game) much to the librarian's dismay then invited our girlfriends over for the grand premiere and pizza. Yes, I said _girlfriends_. Like I mentioned earlier, I began dating Jill at the start of Sophomore year and Sam was so serious with Jess that he had moved out of the frat house and they had gotten an apartment in our third year. Bryce was the only free man in the group, but my gal was always trying to fix him up with one of her friends.

I was living in a fairytale once again. I had amazing friends, school was going great, Ellie was flying through med-school: but then my world was flipped upside down.

Back then, I had no idea what I had done to annoy karma so badly, but I figured I must've done something horrendous. I felt slightly nervous when I got the news that Professor Fleming wanted to see me, but how bad could it be? Answer: extremely bad.

Within an hour of me walking through his office door, I was no longer a student at Stanford. I no longer had a scholarship or frat brothers, and Bryce Larking was no longer my best friend.

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><p><strong>Please take ten seconds out of your precious time to tell me what you think of this story. I'll appreciate even one word reviews. 'It's crap' or 'it's awesome' can inspire me to write faster or invest in a Beta :D<strong>


	3. My Life

**First off, sorry this took me so long to get up. I'm a procrastinator, and it was only last when I realised I haven't updated this story in almost 2 months that I decided to finally get it done. So yeah, this was written between the hours of 11pm-1am, so you'll have to forgive it's averageness. Better things are sure to come, I promise!**

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><p>I guess the worst part of the whole experience was not only knowing that I was innocent, but the fact that my best friend didn't believe I was. And then there was the walk of shame back to the frat house. Then the cleaning out of my stuff in shame. Then the drive of shame back to Burbank.<p>

Bryce told me it was my own fault for cheating. Sam, who had come over to help me get my stuff together, appeared at my shoulder right at that moment. My taller friend pushed his way in front of me with his head held high and his jaw clenched firmly.

The next thing I knew, Bryce was lying across the pool table clutching a bloody nose, while my once mild-mannered friend was taking a couple of boxes out to my car like he hadn't just punched anyone. The whole frat house was staring after him in shock and slight awe. They knew from that moment on that Sam Winchester was someone not to be messed with.

I have to admit it felt rather good to walk by Bryce, seeing him in that position after what he had done to me. I didn't talk to him again until he came back from the dead after Casey put a few rounds in him.

Jess baked me cookies for the car trip back to Burbank, which, to be honest, made the whole saying goodbye thing worse. It really hit me there and then that I was out. All my hard work from over the past few years meant absolutely nothing, and the reputation I had managed to build had been destroyed in less than an hour.

News travelled fast around Stanford, so fast that Jill didn't even bother to come and say goodbye. That hurt me more that Bryce's betrayal had and I didn't really get over her till Sarah nearly six years later. Putting her behind bars helped a bit too.

Sam told me to stay in contact, but the last email in my inbox from him was sent nearly three years ago. He had graduated Stanford, gone to Law school and managed to marry Jess somewhere in between. They had invited me to their wedding, but I had declined, saying that I had a conference to go to that weekend. It was a big fat lie, of course, but Sam didn't have to know that. He didn't need to know that I had done nothing with my life.

He had sent a picture a few days later of the two of them at their reception, and they both looked happier that I'd ever seen them. It was my fault that we fell out of contact because I just couldn't bring myself to reply. It just brought too many bitter memories back up whenever I even thought emailing him, knowing that his life had turned out so well when mine had failed completely.

My life was so bad I ended up going so low as to working at a Buy More with some...well, _very_ interesting people. Morgan made the experience a little less painful, but the fact that I had been dumped by the most perfect woman in the world and I was living with my sister and her awesome boyfriend made the whole thing a lot more tragic.

And so went my life for the next five years. I would get up around seven, sulk over Jill for a couple of minutes, get ready for work, re-read the email from Sam, wonder what my life could've been like, go to work, go home, play video games (Zork remained untouched though), think about Jill and how cute our kids would've been, then go to bed. In short, it sucked.

Then someone stepped into my life that made Jill look like an ice-cream next to an ice-cream with chocolate sauce. Good, but not the best. Sarah Walker brought chaos into my life, including a rather angry NSA agent who takes immense pleasure in my insecurities and immense danger. I didn't mind though – I finally got to make peace with Bryce and Jill, I get to kick some bad guy butt on a weekly basis and being the Intersect has its perks at times.

Gone was the sulking, gone was the depressing reminiscing. My life at Stanford was forgotten and I didn't feel like there was anyone to blame my failures on anymore because I felt like I didn't have any.

But as I thought back on things one particular day and how great everything actually turned out, I realized that there was something I should probably do to make it even better.

"Watcha thinking about, bud?" Morgan's voice brought me out of my funk as I finished stacking the newest season of _Heroes_ into a neat pile. Since he was my best friend, Morgan had the weird ability to sense my emotions. He insisted that our souls were connected, and I decided it was just because we spent so much time together. "Oh no, wait, don't tell me..." he closed his eyes as he rubbed his temples. "I see...the past?" He cracked an eye open slightly to look at my expression, then shut it quickly, "Something to do with a certain school...Stanford, perhaps?"

"I'm that obvious, huh?" My shoulders sagged slightly as I folded the empty cardboard boxes and carried them out the back.

"Just a little. I mean, you get this weird expression, like this." Morgan screwed up his face like he was sucking on a sour lemon while tilting his head and looking slightly pensive.

"I don't look like that." I was glad it was Casey's day off: if not, he would've likely walked through the door right at that moment and made a typical-Casey comment, just like he always did.

"Sure you don't," Morgan said, jumping onto one of the spare tables and sitting on the edge of it. "So who were you thinking about this time? Bryce? Jill? Just Stanford in general?"

I sighed as I pulled out my newest project: a laptop that had become infested with some nasty viruses. "All of the above," I answered truthfully. I began sorting through the corrupted files on the computer in silence while Morgan abruptly changed the subject and gave me a detailed play-by-play of his game of COD he had started last night. It was at least his third time through, but that didn't seem to faze him in the least.

I packed the computer back into the bag it had come in and walked out of the storage room with it forty minutes later, Morgan close on my heels. He hadn't shut up about his game for a second. "And I completed that mission, even though I'd already done it before, but it's always good just to run through it again, you know, for practice–"

"Grimes!" Big Mike stormed across the store from his office to my friend. "I'm not paying you to stand around chattin' all day! Go and help some customers!" He pointed at several people around the store and Morgan rushed over to the closest one. Big Mike straightened his tie and looked at me. "Working hard Bartowski?" he asked, looking at the clipboard in my hands.

"Yes, sir. I stacked the DVDs that you wanted done, the fixed that laptop with the virus and I'm about to re-price those CDs that aren't selling."

Big Mike nodded slowly. "Why can't all my employees be like you?" he asked, narrowing his eyes at Jeff and Lester who were grinning at something that I can only guess was inappropriate on a computer screen. They caught his eye and made their way over to different customers unenthusiastically. That managed to put a slight smile on my boss' face. "Good," he commented briefly before returning to his office.

I placed the laptop under the counter and picked up the infamous labeller. Of all the jobs to do in a Buy More, this had to be the worse. Picking up identical CDs over and over again, then sticking a discount sticker over the barcode before returning it to the same neat display they were at before you disrupted them. Not to mention the fact that your back got a bad cramp from bending over. But it had to be done by someone.

And so began the seemingly endless process. By the time I'd gone through half the CDs, I felt like I was gonna go mad with boredom. I could only be thankful when someone came up behind me and interrupted my work in a strong, confident voice.

"Excuse me, but where are... Chuck? Chuck Bartowski?"

My lowered head snapped up as I placed the Justin Bieber CD back onto the rack and swallowed. It couldn't be. Shouldn't be. Please don't be... I turned around with a faux smile plastered across my face and met the bright, surprised eyes of Sam Winchester.

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><p><strong>Thanks for making it this far! Please leave me a review to tell me what you think! :D<strong>


	4. Orange Orange

"Hey, Sam," I greeted unsurely, taking in the man I hadn't seen in years. What the heck was Sam Winchester doing in Burbank? How did he end up turning up at the exact store that I worked at?

"Man, it's been too long!" he exclaimed, grinning almost as wide as a little kid on Christmas morning. If anything he had grown slightly taller in the past six years, and the guy had definitely been working out. His sharp navy suit and briefcase told me he was all business. "I sent you an email a couple of years back, but I never heard back from you."

"Sorry about that, I kind of got side tracked," I blurted out coming up with one of the lamest excuses in the book. "Uh, congrats on everything though. How's Jess doing?"

I immediately regretted asking the question. His face fell slightly and it was only then that I noticed he wasn't wearing a wedding ring. "There was a fire at our apartment early last year, while I was at work," he said slowly. "Jess...she didn't get out."

An awkward pause hung in the air as I realised what he was saying. Jessica Moore, my old buddy from college, was dead? Sam must've thought I was a real crappy friend, heck, I thought I was a real crappy friend for not being there for him. Damn.

"I'm real sorry about that, man," I apologised sincerely, pushing my hands deeper into my pockets.

"It's OK."

I cleared my throat and changed the subject a bit too abruptly. "So what're you doing here in Burbank?"

"Uh, I've got a case here in a couple of days. I'm just about to meet up with my client," he stated smoothly. Being Sam, he didn't bring up the fact that while he was obviously a successful lawyer, I was working at a Buy More, something I was extremely grateful for. Glancing at his watch, he sucked in a sharp breath. "Look, I've gotta go, but we should meet up while I'm in town. Grab a drink or something."

"Yeah...sounds good."

Sam nodded with a smile as he walked away, but quickly turned back. "Could you point me in the direction of the Orange Orange?"

I tensed slightly when I heard the name of Castle's cover. "You're meeting them at the Orange Orange, huh?"

He shrugged. "I just turn up to wherever my clients feel most comfortable. For this one, it just happens to be a yoghurt shop."

I nodded slowly as I bit my bottom lip. "I'll, uh, take you there," I blurted out before I could change my mind. "My girlfriend helps run the place and I'm on my break, so..."

A look appeared on Sam's face, one that I thought I would never see again. It was the look he'd get whenever he had studied for too long or come across a tricky level on Zork. But what was so hard about letting an old friend walk you across the block? "Sure, that'd be good."

He waited for me as I went to the employees' lounge and stamped my time card, signalling when I went on lunch to show that I was doing my full shift. I hurried back over to him.

"Wait...," he began as we walked towards the doors. "Is that...?" He pointed in the direction of Morgan, who was helping a customer over by the dishwashers as we exited the store. "Is that how you scored a job here then?"

"So you remember Morgan Grimes, huh?"

"The short guy that stayed with us when _Attack of the Clones_ came out?" Sam chuckled. "How can I forget him?"

I ducked my head as I remembered back to the weekend we all went out and got _very_ drunk "Right... I guess it's kind of hard to not remember a small, naked, rather hairy man waking up next to you..."

"You're not very wise when it comes to choosing your friends, Chuck Bartowski," he replied, his smile telling me that he was only teasing.

"Hey, I was friends with you, wasn't I?"

He laughed as he clapped my back. "Exactly."

And just like that, we were talking like it had only been yesterday since we had seen each other last, instead of nearly eight years. We reminisced all the way to the Orange Orange, and by the time we got there, I couldn't wait to introduce him to Sarah.

The doors swung open as we entered the chilly building and made our way over to the counter, laughing about the thanksgiving Sam and Bryce had spent with my family in our Junior year.

Sarah's back was to us and we sat down. She was just finishing expertly cutting up some strawberries for a young girl's yoghurt. The first thing I caught sight of when she turned was her beautiful smile. How'd the CIA expect me not to fall in love with such a girl?

She glanced in our direction briefly, her smile not changing as she handed over the yoghurt and the girl left the store. She leaned over to give me a peck on the lips, keeping up our cover excellently, then looked at Sam. "Who's this?" she asked, looking him up and down.

"Sam Winchester," Sam said before I could, sticking out his hand. I could've sworn he was looking at Sarah like he knew her from somewhere, but I brushed it off. There were a lot of blonde hair blue eyed gorgeous women in the world – Sam even married one, for Pete's sake. "I'm an old college buddy of Chuck's."

"Oh," Sarah replied, looking surprised as she shook his hand politely. "I'm Sarah Walker, Chuck's girlfriend."

"Yeah, it turns out Stanford wasn't all bad," I explained as I grinned, and I was glad to see her relax a little.

Sarah let out a laugh as she leaned against the counter. "Well, it's always nice to meet Chuck's friends. Do you guys wanna try our new flavour, 'Mango Berry Blast'?" she asked as she gestured to the huge sign above her head that was advertising the yoghurt.

"Uh, sure," Sam said, glancing at me out of the corner of his eye. "That'd be good, thank you."

"Chuck?"

"Yeah, I'll have one too, thanks."

"Won't be a minute." Sarah went over to side of the counter and began preparing our three yoghurts.

"So when's your client coming?" I asked, glancing at the clock. I didn't want to get in the way of his job.

Sarah suddenly stopped cutting the mango for a second, her body tensing slightly, but before I could register if anything was wrong, she went back about her business.

Sam creased his brow as he looked away from my 'girlfriend' and back at me. "Should be in the next five or so minutes. He's been pretty punctual with all our appointments so far."

I nodded as I fiddled with one of the clear pink spoons from a container on the counter. "So he's better with time than we were?"

Sam laughed as he pointed an accusing finger at me. "It was your fault that we almost missed that psychology class. _Twice_," he added as an afterthought.

"How was I supposed to know that the new batteries wouldn't work in that alarm clock?" I asked innocently as I shrugged. "At least we learned a valuable lesson that day: never trust anything that cost less than 25 cents."

Sarah brought over our food as she perched on a stool next to me. "So you guys were roommates in college, then?" she asked as she ate a spoonful of her yoghurt.

I nodded eagerly. "Yip. It was me, Sammy here and Bryce for a whole year in one tiny little room..." trailed off as I realised I mentioned Bryce. Sam had probably read his obituary last year, just like I had. But unlike me, Sam didn't know he was still alive.

I coughed uncomfortably and ducked my head. How was the poor guy surviving when his friend and girlfriend – no, even worse, his _wife_ – had died?

"Those were some good times," Sam added with a sad smile as he patted me on the back, making up for my awkwardness and reassuring me at the same time.

"Sounds like it," Sarah replied, giving my hand a squeeze.

I finished my yoghurt in silence as Sam glanced around out the store for his client, I assumed. It didn't seem he was having any success until he froze, his eyes widening slightly.

Sarah narrowed hers as she looked up at him. "Sam, are you OK?" she asked, sounding like she was genuinely worried about him.

We both followed his gaze when he didn't reply, looking for whatever he was staring at, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary. A couple of dozen customers were flitting around the car park, chasing after children or loading shopping bags into the back of their cars. He could have been staring at anyone: the elderly man hobbling to his car, the woman with fluorescent jumper, the man in the trench coat, the two kids walking a large dog, or the teenagers acting suspicious around a rubbish bin.

"Hello? Earth to Sam," I said loudly, waving a hand in front of his face.

He shook his head as though he were startled and spun back around to look at me and Sarah. "Sorry," he apologised suddenly, taking a large scoop of his yoghurt. "I thought I saw someone..."

Sarah nodded slowly, looking at him carefully. I frowned and shrugged when she glanced over at me questioningly, then signalled for her to relax a little. She was simply being paranoid, as most secret agents were.

Minutes passed, but finally, the door to the Orange Orange opened. We all turned, expecting to see Sam's client walk in. But instead, Casey marched in, clad in the usual black jean and polo-shirt he wore on his day off.

Sam wiped his mouth with a napkin and got to his feet as Casey stopped in his tracks, glaring at me as though I was ruining something by being there.

"Mr. Casey," Sam greeted as the NSA agent forced a smile onto his face and shook his hand before he could stop the younger man from doing anything.

Wait, _what_? was all I could think as I watched this strange exchange going on. Casey was Sam's client? What could he have possibly done that would require a lawyer when he killed people for a living? And why would they be meeting at the exact place that held Castle beneath its floors, the cover to our whole operation?

Holy crap! "No!"

The three looked at me in shock: Sarah seemed confused but I could tell she was covering some anxiety; Sam appeared generally puzzled at my outburst and Casey looked like he could kill me on the spot for being there at that moment.

"No!" I repeated, jumping to my feet and looking between them desperately. "You're not...are you?" I practically shouted at Sam.

"Am I what, Chuck?" Sam asked, taking a step back, flabbergasted. "What're you on about? Do you know John Casey?"

"Bartowski!" Casey hissed at me as he clenched his fists. I shuffled a little closer to Sarah. "You better have a damn good reason for being here or I'll–"

"You _are_!" I pointed an accusing finger at Sam, disbelieving.

"OK, Chuck, just calm down," Sarah said, forcing me back into the chair. She sighed as she went to stand by the others. "Chuck, I think you've deduced by now that Sam's with the CIA."

Sam's jaw dropped as he stared at Sarah. "Chuck _knows_ about you two?" The same confused expression appeared on his face as he looked over at me. "How do you know? The General never mentioned that there were three agents here!"

Sarah walked around to the cash register and punched in the code to Castle. The freezer door slid open silently as I was forced to my feet as Casey pulled me towards it, looking as though he _really_ needed to kill something. "You morons have got some catching up to do."

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><p><strong>So that was a pretty long one, but I hope you liked it! Thanks for reading!<strong>


	5. Answers

"There was a _reason_ that you weren't supposed to know that Winchester was here," Casey hissed in my ear as he dragged me down the stairs to Castle. We were walking so fast and close together that it took all my willpower not to trip. "_He's not supposed to know about you_. Understand, Bartowski?"

I glanced over at Sam, who'd already made it onto flat ground and was watching me with a puzzled look, then back to Casey. I nodded hurriedly, hopefully reassuring the Major that he wouldn't have to kill me today, because I would in fact _not_ muck up. I had had heaps of practice hiding that I was the Intersect from people – what was one more friend?

Giving me a steely look, he let go of his iron grip on my arm and I rubbed the red spot with a hurt look on my face. I clambered down the remaining steps and watched Casey leave the room to go clean guns or whatever he did to blow off steam, then looked over at Sarah who was calmly sitting down at the conference table, flicking through a file.

Sam, on the other hand, had begun pacing back and forth, running a hand through his hair when he suddenly stopped and looked at me. After staring for a few seconds, he shook his head and continued his pacing.

A million questions were running through my mind, and for once, the Intersect was not being co-operative. I flashed on nothing. So I decided to try a different route: just talking to my old friend.

"Sit," I requested after a few minutes of his pacing–staring cycle. I grabbed two bottles of water from the small fridge I insisted we install in Castle for long cases/emergencies (you never know), just so we could have something to do if the conversation became too awkward.

Sam stopped pacing and did as I asked, gesturing for me to sit down opposite him. He gave me a quick nod of thanks as I slid a bottle over to him and leaned against the table rather than sit. "So...Bryce got you too, huh?" he asked awkwardly.

That did it. I choked on my drink and saw Sarah glance up from some paperwork she was doing at me. The look on her face told me she already knew that Bryce got Sam involved in the CIA. "Bryce Larkin?" I spluttered, my eyes wide.

Sam nodded and quickly took a drink, looking rather guilty, like he shouldn't have admitted that. "That's how you got enlisted too...right?"

I bit my lip as I tried to figure out how I could best lie myself out of this situation. "Yeah, sort of," I said. "I'm assuming you know he's still alive?"

Sam chuckled as he nodded. "'Course. I was just with him in Paris last week. Why are you still in Burbank, though?" he wondered. It seemed as though we were bother eager to find out as much as we could about the other rather than explain how we got into the spying business. "Is Walker your partner?"he added quickly, looking over at her.

"I guess I was just lucky to be assigned here. We've got...an on-going case..." I offered. "And yeah, Sarah and Casey are part of it. Well, I guess it'll just be me and Sarah if you're borrowing Casey." I really wanted to tell him the truth as much as I possibly could, but I knew it was safer leading the conversation away from me. "But when did you get involved? What happened?"

"It was soon after you left, actually. I was furious with Bryce for getting you kicked out...so I may have confronted him one night."

"You did _what_?"

"I wasn't exactly sober, OK? Anyway, I followed him home from the bar and it got...let's just say a bit out of hand. We were both pretty beaten up by the time a couple of guys separated us and I thought that was the end of it. I never wanted to see the guy again, but I was called into Professor Fleming's office the next day and he was there, looking as smug as ever. It took a lot of self-constraint to not take a swing at him."

"And that's when you signed up." I said, more of a statement than a guess.

Sam ran a hand through his hair as he nodded. "Fleming told me that he'd been keeping an eye on me – and you – for a few months. We were the next in line for recruitment and he thought that after I showed that I was fully capable at hand-to-hand combat the previous night, it was my time. I went on leave from school for 'poor health' and began my training in Washington the next day."

I posed my next question hesitantly, not sure whether to ask it or not. But I had to know, and Sam likely knew that it was to come up. "But what about Jess? Did she ever know?"

Sam bit his lip and looked down. "Well," he began after a moment. "Not at first. I told her I was going back home to Kansas to heal. She believed me and it worked for a few weeks until she said that she wanted to come visit me one weekend. Of course, she couldn't seeing as I was in DC at the time, and I wasn't allowed to tell her anything about what I was doing. So eventually the lies became too much for me, and I did the only humane thing I could think of – I broke up with her."

"That doesn't exactly sound humane, but OK..."

"I wanted her to move on, Chuck, and to find someone she could actually be with," Sam explained. "I wasn't good for her with the line of work I was getting into and I needed to concentrate on my training."

"Oh, right... But wait a minute," I said, utterly confused. "You married her, right? That picture you sent me _was_ real?"

Sam smiled as he thought back. "About two years later, I was a fully qualified agent and was assigned to help out with security for a UN conference. I ran into her, and it turns out those Bio trips she and Jill took to Washington were for something completely different."

"Bryce got to Jess too?" I asked, slightly impressed. "I _knew_ there had to be a reason she could always beat me at Duck Hunter..."

Sam laughed lightly. "We met up for a drink after. She'd been in since her first month or so at Stanford and was equally surprised as I was to find that I was CIA rather that some kid on his deathbed. Long story short, I proposed a couple of months later and we got married before the year was over."

I smiled serenely at the fairytale of sorts. It sounded like the perfect life – getting to marry your dream girl and kick butt with her every day for work.

"She decided to take a very early retirement when we decided to start a family two years later, but... But we never got the chance..." he stated bitterly, staring at the table.

"So, what're you _actually_ doing here in Burbank, Sam?" I asked sombrely yet curiously, wanting to change the subject and make it one that didn't have anything to do with me.

Sam composed himself then glanced over at Sarah, who nodded, giving him permission to tell me whatever it was. "Have you ever heard of a crime lord called Crowley?"

My eyes went unfocused as I flashed. _Guns. Explosions. Dead people. Money. Bigger explosions. Criminals. High alert. Extremely dangerous. _"Yeah, I think his name's come up," I answered nonchalantly a few seconds later.

Sam had luckily been looking down to notice anything strange. "I was put in charge of the operation to bring him down a few years again and since then, I've been getting together a team of the best agents to go undercover."

"To bring him down from the inside," I suggested.

Sam nodded in reply. "General Beckman suggested Major Casey for the job when I asked her for recommendations. As soon as someone mucks up by saying or doing the wrong thing, our whole cover will be blown and the last four years will have been a complete waste of time. We need the best, and lucky for us, Major Casey's more than capable for the job."

I nodded in understanding. If anyone was loyal and trusted enough to be part of this operation, it was John Casey. "So when does he start?"

"Immediately," he replied rather curtly. He stood up and went over to the desk he had left his briefcase on when he had come into Castle, which I assumed had notes on his operation in it. "I came here to get him up to scratch on everything, and I plan on putting him in the field by next week. We're getting so close, Chuck, _so_ close."

I smiled a little as he walked back over, glad that things were going well for him, but one thing was still bugging me. Sam mentioned that Fleming had been watching the two of us, yet only he got recruited back then. Why did Bryce convince the Professor to let me out of it and not Sam? We had both been good friends with him, so why was I the lucky one?

When Sarah suddenly got up and left the room a minute or two later, I decided to voice my concerns. "I don't get it Sam – why did Bryce protect me, and not you from all this when we were at school? Why did he only get me involved with the CIA later?"

Sam loosened his tie and leaned on the desk next to me. "I'm sure he had his reasons. No one really knew Bryce Larkin, after all."

I grinned as he clapped me on the back, knowing he was completely right. Even the Intersect didn't have all the answers.

"Why did you freak out when you found out I was CIA?" Sam asked curiously, turning to face me. "I thought we were supposed to be rock solid and 'show no emotion'."

I shrugged hesitantly although I already knew the answer. "I guess I just sorta hoped that one aspect of my old life – life before I got involved with all this, I mean – was still the same."

Sam smiled sadly. "Me too, Chuck. Me too."

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks for reading! Please leave a review and tell me what you think! :D<strong>


	6. Jimmy

_Access Denied._

"What's going on?" I mumbled to myself as I lowered my hand from the screen again for the fourth time that morning. I was starting to shiver from the cool air in the freezer, the fact that I was only wearing my thin work shirt not helping.

After wiping my hands on my pants in case to make sure that there was nothing on them that could confuse the computer, I tried again. A minute of analysing my handprint later, the same, tedious message flashed up on the screen again.

_Access Denied._

"Come on!" I shouted in frustration, hitting the stupid machine several times for good measure. It did nothing. I bent down to pick up my work bag that I had put down the first time I had been 'denied' and looked through it for a my work tools so I could see what was wrong with the damn thing.

"I'm the freakin' Intersect! What do you mean my access is denied! I've only been down to Castle a couple of hundred times!" I continued to curse at the stupid machine as I tried to pry the screen cover off the wall, but a voice brought me out of my determined job.

"Uh...Chuck? What're you doing?"

My determined face immediately warped into an innocent look as Sam appeared on the small screen next to the one that took your handprint. Behind him, I could see Casey sitting at a table in Castle, a folder lying in front of him and an angry look on his face. Sam must've turned on the cameras when he heard my shouting and probably saw the whole escapade.

I took a few steps back so my face wasn't right in the camera and sheepishly hid my tools behind my back. "Hi Sam," I muttered as nonchalantly as possible. "I'm just...trying to get into Castle. It keeps saying 'Access Denied' every time I scan my hand."

"Did you ever think there was a reason for that, moron?" Casey growled as he shoved his face right up to the camera, pushing Sam out the way. "Walker! Take care of Bartowski!"

I wondered why he was talking to Sarah when she wasn't there as the screen went blank. Slinging my bag over my shoulder, I jumped as I turned and saw Sarah pointing her gun straight at my head. She rolled her eyes when she saw it was me and slipped her gun away.

"How did you get in here?" I demanded in a rather high voice, still recovering from the shock.

"Quietly," she replied before taking my arm and dragging me out of the freezer.

"Well, I'm glad to see the alarm we got installed works," I commented briefly as I stepped back into the yoghurt shop. It was definitely a lot warmer in here despite the air conditioning. "But _why _can't I get in? It worked fine yesterday."

Yesterday had been...well, nice, frankly. When it was my turn to explain my presence in the CIA, I had managed to feed Sam some lame story about how the government was mainly interested in me for my tech skills and that was the main reason I got involved. Somehow, he bought it, and a day later, I was still in wonder about how good I was getting at lying. To be honest, it scared me a little.

I had to go back to work till six after that, but I picked up some Chinese food before going back down.

We had then spent the rest of the night swapping mission stories. Sam's ones definitely trumped mine – taking down a team of assassin-fashion designers on a plane 16000 feet above the ground with only a plastic fork? (I am still unsure about how he'd pulled that one off). I reluctantly left around midnight, completely exhausted and dreading the thought of getting up early the next morning for my shift, but was convinced when Sam promised me that we would hang the next day, something that would be quite hard with my current 'banned from Castle' status.

"There's a reason you're locked out of Castle, Chuck," Sarah said, interrupting my thoughts of everything that had happened. "This mission is sensitive–"

"Dangerous and top secret," I finished for her, dumping my bag on the counter. "I know, I know..."

"You can go back in once Casey's been briefed."

"And how long will that take?"

"A couple days at the most."

The 'couple days' turned into nearly five.

I couldn't help but wonder what was taking them so long. I never saw them come out for anything, so I assumed that Sarah was supplying them with food and anything else they needed. What were they doing that was taking this amount of time? What did this training even include?

I had this great impulse to work with Sam and I felt like I was being left out of things (which I was). Yeah, I sounded like a jealous five-year-old: I know. But that didn't concern me right at that moment. So I spent my lunchtimes and any other free time I had at the Orange Orange in case they were to suddenly resurface again. Let's just say that I have never eaten so much frozen yoghurt in my life.

On day five of my venture, Sarah, who normally kept me company, asked me to watch the shop for a minute while she went to get some more spoons and strawberries from the store across the mall. I agreed, knowing that this was a way I could probably repay her for putting up with all my moping for the past few days. I was getting pretty good at making all the different kinds of yoghurt anyway, so I could handle any customers that came in. What could go wrong?

Sighing, I started doodling on a napkin until all hell broke loose.

A thump against the window of the yoghurt shop frightened me, and I quickly spun around to see a man leaning heavily against the window for support. Recognising him as the man that Sam had stared at when he had first arrived in Burbank, I watched as he staggered to the door, his hand dragging along the once clean glass and leaving a strange red substance smeared across it. It was then that I realised that thesubstance was blood.

I jumped to my feet as the man fell through the door and hurried over to him. He leaned heavily against my shoulder for support when I reached him, all the while muttering something undetectable in a low, gruff voice.

I inched closer to him to hear what he was saying and finally caught it.

"Sam Winchester. I need to see Sam Winchester."

"Sam? Who are you? Why do you want to see Sam?" I asked in a rushed voice, feeling that there wasn't much time for talking.

His clutched my once clean shirt, leaving a bloody handprint on it. "Please," he pleaded as his desperate blue eyes searched mine. His voice was getting weaker as he continued to beg. "Please."

I nodded quickly and led him around the back of the counter, knowing that Sam would know how to deal with him, carefully lowering him to the floor with his back to the counter for support. I ran to the freezer and placed my hand against the screen before I remembered that I was locked out of Castle, leaving me with no way to get to Sam.

"Come on, Chuck, think!"

Of course. Casey.

I pulled out my phone and dialled his number, hoping that he would actually pick up. "Come on, Casey, it's an emergency. Come on!"

"_What _ is it, Bartow-"

"Some guy just showed up and he's been shot and he wants to talk to Sam, you both need to get up here right now." I hung up before the Major could ask any questions and waste even more time.

I knelt down by the stranger and desperately looked around for the source of the bleeding. But what would I do once I found it? Ellie was the one who was the doctor, not me – I only took that first-aid course back in high school. What was I supposed to do?

He helped me out a little, moving the trench coat that he was wearing away from his torso. Quite close the middle of his chest, two bullet holes had pierced through the white shirt he was wearing, and with each shaky breath he took, more and more blood leaked out. It was then that I knew, even with my lack of medical knowledge, that there was nothing that could be done.

"Jimmy?"

I didn't have to look behind me to know that Sam and Casey had arrived. The younger agent's voice was full of disbelief and worry.

I quickly slid out the way, not caring that I had been kneeling in a puddle of blood. Casey shoved me even further away as he knelt down next to Sam. "Isn't this Jimmy Novak?" he demanded. The way he was sitting...it was as though he wasn't too sure whether or not he should be saving the man or letting him die. "Winchester, answer me!"

I flashed. _Jimmy Novak, AKA Castiel. Dangerous criminal. Knife expert. Do not approach. _

Sam ignored him as a desperate look came over his face. He grasped the front of the raven-haired man's trench coat and pulling him closer as he pressed down on his chest, trying to stop the flowing blood. "Jimmy! What happened? Talk to me, please..." he whispered, his hazel eyes staring desperately into the criminal's blue ones.

Sarah walked through the door at that exact second. None of us answered her questions as to why there was blood all over the store, and she immediately quietened down as she saw the scene behind the counter.

Jimmy screwed up his face in pain as his lips moved quickly, passing on a desperate message that was so faint I didn't catch. Sam gave a single nod, and Castiel's eyes stared into nothingness as he became still.

I didn't move. Everything was so quite compared to the commotion that was happening only moments before. I just stared in shock, confusion and slight grief at my old friend and the body he was clutching.

"Winchester? Did you know him?" Casey asked giving Sam a slightly softer version of his seemingly only expression.

My friend didn't answer.

"Sam, I'm sorry, but we need to know. Who is he?" Sarah said gently as she knelt next to him and putting a hand on his shoulder.

"Jimmy Novak...he's an old family friend," Sam muttered as continued to stare down at his friend. He cleared his throat and I tried not to notice the pained look on his face. "I grew up with him."

That definitely changed things. But why was he here? Why did Sam still seem to care so much about this criminal? What had Jimmy needed to talk to him so badly about.

"What did he mean by 'The Apocalypse is coming'? Who's Dean?" Sarah asked a moment later.

Realising that she must've read Jimmy's lips when he was passing on his message to Sam, I had to admit I was impressed although it wasn't really the time to do so.

Sam winced at the question, and glanced up at her, then Casey, until his eyes finally rested on me. "We can't talk here."

Without another word, Sam picked up Jimmy's body with a little effort, and I watched from my place on the floor as he reverently carried him towards Castle, his head hanging down. The death of his friend – who was obviously a close one – and whatever news had just been delivered to him, seemed to have defeated him.

* * *

><p><strong>I would have loved to have had Cas in the story more, but this just happens to be the way things worked out. Thanks for reading, please leave a review if you feel so inclined! :D<strong>


	7. Things Get Real

"Dean..." Sam bit his lip as he looked down. "He's my older brother."

"You have an older brother?" I butted in before Sarah could say anything else. I frowned as I straightened up. In the whole ten or so years that I had known him, I had never realised that "Why did you never tell me?"

My handlers shushed me, Casey with a glare and Sarah with a chastising look. I backed down immediately to my leaning against the desk position and re-folded my arms.

"I've not talked to him in over ten years – not since I left for Stanford. He practically raised me, but the guy's a real jerk." Sam smiled slightly as he shook his head, thinking back.

"Novak said Dean was involved."

Sam's expression flipped back to the pained one I was getting so used to seeing. "I don't know how, I don't know when, I don't know why, OK? Like I said, I've not so much as thought about him never mind phoning him up and asking him about his extracurricular activities."

"Involved with what?" I question barely a second later, ignoring my handlers completely.

I watched my old friend lick his lips and frown, a thousand and one thoughts obviously racing through his mind. It was then that something within me snapped.

"I have a right to know," I began, slamming my hand against the desk and regretting it a moment later as dull pain shot up my arm. But I managed to bury it – I was trying to be tough and show that I could take it, after all. "And before you say anything," I continued, rounding on Casey, "I do have a right. I've known Sam for ten years, I'm involved enough with the CIA to be trusted, and in case you haven't forgotten, my head's full of–"

"I think what Chuck's trying to say," Sarah interrupted suddenly, allowing me to realise the mistake I had been so close to making, "Is that he thinks he knows enough, so he might as well be told the rest, but he's obviously wro-"

"Right." Sam was the one to interrupt this time. The one word made Casey and Sarah whip their heads towards him. The look on their faces would've been pretty amusing if we were in different circumstances.

"What?"

"He does have a right to know." Sam clenched his jaw, running a hand through his hair as he did. "Jimmy's dead, and that and the information he gave us changes things. I...I don't know who to trust anymore." He slid back on his chair, getting to his feet quickly and going over to the closest computer. "You three are the best I've got, if Masters hasn't been compromised."

"Masters?" I hissed to Casey as Sam began to type furiously and documents began to pop up on all the screens.

"Meg Masters," Sam replied, making me jump. How good was this guy's hearing, jeez... "An agent I've got undercover. She's in too deep to report back regularly."

"In what too deep?"

"Hell." With one final click, Sam sat back in his chair casually, a position I used to see him in all the time whenever he was finishing up an assignment or finishing up something on Zork. He seemed comfortable – too comfortable given the current circumstance. "Jimmy Novak was working for Crowley, a crime lord I've been in charge of taking down for the past three years."

Everything went fuzzy as I flashed. Crowley. Identity unknown. CIA's most wanted. Highly dangerous. Contact Winchester immediately upon sighting.

I shook my head, trying to unsee the pictures of the gruesome murders Crowley's team had taken part in that were stored on the Intersect, but they seemed to be permanently burned into my retinas.

"Chuck?"

Sam sounded hesitant as he called out my name, like he was trying to figure out the fit I just appeared to have, while Sarah and Casey just frowned at me, obviously wondering what I'd flashed on.

"Keep going," I pressed, giving him a small smile to try cover it up. "Just got a bit of a headache."

"Right..." Sam stared at me for a moment, and I could practically hear the wheels turning in his head. What those wheels were actually thinking, I had no idea. "Crowley's been one of the biggest threats to this country long before I was put on his case. So far, we've not managed to figure out any of his motivations – he just seems to be after chaos. If anything, I would say he's going for total world domination, but that seems a bit –"

"Insane?" I offered, frowning as I did. 'Insane' didn't even begin to cover what I'd flashed on, so what Sam was suggesting didn't seem too out of the picture.

"Well, yeah."

"How'd he end up getting so much power?"

"Crowley makes deals with people," Sam began, clicking open a window. A huge list of names appeared – there must've been over a hundred of them. The tiny font and minute scrollbar just revealed that it went on for a while. "He does them favours, whether it's lending them money, killing off someone, a whole range of things, and in exchange, they get ten years."

I gulped. "Uh...ten years before what?" Thanks to the Intersect, I immediately assumed that Crowley's thugs killed them off, but I wanted to ask and make sure.

"Ten years before they're free." Sam stood once again, pointing to the screen as he did. "All these people have asked him for something, and in exchange, they've had to do his bidding for a decade. They've got to work off their debt, or..."

He clicked something on the keyboard, and the list shortened slightly. 'DESEACED' was printed clearly next to the names of every single person.

Although it wasn't as long as before, there were still a lot of people there. I squinted to read it - and suddenly felt nauseous as a result. They were in order of surname, and it was quite obvious from the amount of people grouped under some of them that not only the person who'd made the deal was killed off, but their whole family too. This guy was a monster.

"What do they have to do to work off their debt?" I asked hesitantly. I didn't really want to know more, but if I was to be part of this mission, I had to.

Sam shrugged. "Depends on what the person can do. It can be anything from hacking into top security databases or connecting him to higher up contacts, or the more physical things like carrying out his threats and actually breaking into places – literally _anything_ that will be for his gain in some way or another and helps prevent him from going out and doing the job himself." Sam sighed deeply before continuing. "This man has over a hundred murders to his name. Sure, he's not gone out and done the actual killing, but he's arranged every single one of those deaths."

I visibly shuddered, and Sam nodded sympathetically. "That's why we've got to take him down, Chuck, and that's why I need you three in on this."

Both of my handlers stood grim faced, staring at my old college buddy, each obviously having heard this information before. It took everything not to look away from Sam: the look on his face just wasn't him. He looked defiant yet tired, and I knew this case had affected him. Heck, it would've affected anyone who'd had a heart at any point in their life.

"What's the...the, uh, 'Apocalypse'?" I asked, my shaking voice no more than a whisper. After all the information I'd just heard, it couldn't be anything good. I caught Sarah moving forward slightly out of the corner of my eye, then remembered she'd asked about this very thing upstairs.

Sam ran his hand through his hair as he replied, "I'm not entirely sure - no one is. Eight weeks ago, Masters reported that something big was coming in sixty-six days. That's only -"

"Just over a week away," I gulped. "But I thought you said you were close to figuring this out?"

A frustrated look appeared on his face and I immediately regretted making the statement. "Ten days from now, this 'Apocalypse' is going down. That's why I requested help, but I didn't get into contact with Major Casey until two weeks ago because this case is so sensitive. I thought I was getting somewhere, but I'm no closer to figuring this out than I was a month ago. We're running out of time - I'm running out of time and I don't have any idea what's going to happen if I screw this up."

I winced at his tone.

What had Sam Winchester gotten himself into?


	8. Answers and Questions

"Chuck?"

Sam's hushed voice pulled me out of my funk. I'd been staring at a wall in Castle for the past half hour, my mind racing and trying to wrap itself around all the information it had just been presented. This whole thing was bigger than I had expected it to be (not that I had expected Sam to be in the CIA, but when I'd gotten past that, of course), and now, all thanks to a little secret called the Intersect and the fact that I had to pretend to be an fully involved with the government, I was stuck right in the middle of this. I wasn't about to tell anyone, but yeah, I was terrified.

Once he had finished filling us in on all the information he had on Crowley, Sam had asked Sarah and Casey to go and do surveillance on a supposedly abandoned storage lockup he thought a weapons trade was going to go down in sometime soon. The place was twenty minutes out, and as soon as they were given the instruction and had prepped themselves with all the weapons a secret agent could dream of, they left.

Sam, meanwhile, told me he was had to make a phone call and had disappeared from Castle, thus leaving me in my state of 'holy-crap-I-am-way-in-over-my-head'. His return went unnoticed until he was standing right in front of me, leaving me feeling more than relieved that my crisis had all been internal and silent.

I gave him a smile, and it was obvious from the slight frown that appeared on his face that it looked as forced as it felt, but he didn't address it. "I need you to do me a favour."

"What's your brother got to do with this?" I asked as though I'd never heard his request. But seriously, any and all thoughts about Dean Winchester had been driving me crazy ever since the subject had been mentioned and then randomly dropped. I couldn't help but find it suspicious – sure, there were more important things to discuss, but it had seemed as though Dean had been forgotten about a bit too intentionally. Sam obviously didn't want to discuss his family – the fact that he never talked about them while we had been at Stanford showed that – but if Jimmy had thought it was important to mention Dean while taking his last breaths, now was the time to bring it up and get answers for myself.

Sam looked down at his clasped hands that were resting on the table before he shrugged and swallowed thickly. "I dunno. You're still close with your sister, right?"

His question surprised me, but I answered honestly. "Yeah. Still living with her and everything."

The comment didn't lighten the mood. "My mother died when I was six months old," he began bitterly, and I remembered back to the discussion we'd had with Bryce once upon a time at Stanford. This grim fact had come up, but we hadn't really gone into it. "She had been sick for two years, and I guess having me didn't exactly help."

I couldn't help but pick up in the hate in his voice, but it didn't seem to be directed at the illness that took his Mom - it sounded like he blamed himself for being born at such a time. Cause he totally had control over that.

"We stayed in Lawrence until I was five, and the Novaks lived a few doors down from us. Jimmy's five years older than me, a year older than my brother, so they were friends. If Dean had had his way, I wouldn't have been allowed to hang around them, but..." He licked his lips. "But our Dad was never really around."

I frowned from the edge of my seat when he fell silent. Until a week ago, I thought I knew the man sitting in front of me as well as I knew myself. But ever since he'd reappeared in my life, it was obvious that I didn't. "How come?" I prompted. It was probably rude to do so, but I had a feeling that it was important or he would never continue the tale.

He shrugged again; it was becoming a common action for him. "Dad wasn't really home during the day - he worked - and he usually got home so late that Dean and I didn't see him. Mrs Novak would take care of us for nothing, but I heard her confronting Dad once just after I'd started school. She wanted to know what he was doing all this time, why his two sons barely knew him. He just said she had no right to question him, but when she kept pushing, he said he was working. We weren't allowed to go round to the Novak's after that."

"So what, he would just leave a five and nine year old at home?"I asked, unable to hide the disgust from my voice as I put the puzzle together.

"Well...yeah."

"Didn't the Novaks do something?"

"They didn't get a chance. We moved a week later and never really stopped."

I didn't push for an explanation: I knew that he'd give it in his own time. It took a minute for him to gather his words, then Sam began his tale again.

"It took a month of jumping around cheap motels for me to figure out that we weren't going home – heck, I didn't even realise we still legally _owned_ a home until I applied for Stanford," Sam said, the slight chuckle in his voice cancelled out by the bitterness that was fuelling his words. "That was my life for the next decade: we'd arrive in a new state, book out a crappy motel room, I'd be the weird new kid at school, and by the time a few weeks had passed, I was glad to leave the place behind us.

"Dad continued to play the absent parent card, so Dean was left to raise me." He paused a moment to shake his head, eyes glued to the table. "Jeez, I can't imagine how hard that must've been – losing your mother and practically your father, only to be stuck raising your snot-nosed brother. Dad made it clear that I was Dean's top priority: imagine that, being nine years-old and having to learn how to cook and do the washing and comfort a five year-old every time he fell over and grazed his knee, and make sure the doors were locked every night because your deadbeat Dad wasn't around to take care of you."

I clenched my jaw, deciding not to mention that I could relate – this was Sam's time to talk, not mine. My Mom had left in fifth grade, then Dad a few short years later, leaving Ellie to raise me. It was just another thing me and Sam could add to the list of screwed up things no one should really have in common, but hey presto. At least we hadn't moved around every couple of weeks: that would have well and truly _sucked_.

"I kept going though, with school and trying to have as normal a life as possible, but as soon as I hit eighteen, I was done. I was an adult, I could take 'legally' care of myself, and I damn sure let my father know how suffocated I'd felt the past thirteen years. So I left, applied for Stanford, was miraculously was allowed to start as soon as possible and...well, you know how the rest of the story goes."

I nodded in agreement: I had been part of a majority of the story, after all. Silence filled the air for half a minute before I spoke again. "And you had – _have_ – no idea why?" I questioned in a hushed tone, my mouth gaping slightly in disbelief.

Sam chewed his bottom lip as he pondered over the question for a moment. "Before Jimmy turned up, I had half a dozen theories, but now I-" He came to a sudden stop as the door to Castle opened, revealing two dirty and rather sweaty agents.

Casey made no effort to lighten his footsteps as he stomped down the stairs, Sarah following close behind. Sam and I stood suddenly, and my mind went nuts as I processed the graze on Sarah's head and the grave expressions they both wore.

"What happened?!" I blurted out even though the look Casey gave me told me it wasn't my place to do so. He glanced over at Sarah, and her lips pursed together to show she had clearly received the silent message he passed on, then the Major left the room without a single word.

"Walker, _what happened_?" Sam demanded, repeating my question in a more authoritative tone as he paced over to her.

"The trade was going down like you said, but there were more guards that we anticipated. We had to...improvise," she replied as she placed a bag on the table and blew some loose hair away from her face. She took a breath and I waited in anticipation for her to continue as she turned to me. "Chuck, leave," she ordered, her voice strained as she looked me in the eye.

"What? But I have a right to –"

"_Now_, Chuck."

It wasn't often Sarah had to use that tone with me, so getting the message loud and clear, my shoulders slumped as I followed Casey to the next room.

"What happened out there?" I asked him, not surprised to see him undergoing his favourite 'blowing off steam' activity: aggressively (if you could actually do the action aggressively...) cleaning his hand gun, while the other weapons he'd taken on the mission laid out on the table waited for the same fate.

Casey growled under his breath as he dropped the cloth and brought the gun to eye level, loading it in a manner that suggested he wasn't afraid to use it...namely on me. "Things got messy," he replied calmly

"You don't say," I shot back, crossing my arms tightly. "Do I get specifics, or is that it?"

"You'll have to ask your boy friend if you want any more detail than that – this is his mission, not ours, remember, moron?"

I nodded, suppressing a sigh. I'd gotten so used to being _in _on missions that I suddenly felt as naive and left out of things as I had when I'd first gotten the Intersect...

Muffled raised voices sounded from the next room, and I glanced nervously over my shoulder before looking to Casey for an explanation. He just shrugged, clearly unoblivious to what was going on, and continued cleaning. A few seconds later, there was silence, and if anything, that worried me more than the shouting had.

It took a minute for the doors to open again, but only Sarah walked through them, her lips pursed even tighter than before. I rushed over to her, grabbing her arm to stop her from disappearing – her expression told me it had been a bad idea, but it was too late to go back now. "Where's Sam? What happened? Why were you-"

"Novak was right, Chuck, that's all you need to know."

"Right about what?"

Sarah clenched her jaw, not meeting my eye as she spoke in a straight tone. "The CIA's been tracking everyone that's been working for Crowley for the past two years and why they're involved. Beckman informed me that we thought he was involved, but there was never any record of a deal or a reason as to why he would be, so we never had any proof that he actually was... Until now."

"Wait a minute, so you're saying that someone's working for Crowley just for the sake of working for a bad guy? Who?"

"Dean Winchester is Crowley's right hand man, Chuck, and has been for the past seven years, but it's only now that Sam has found out about his involvement."


	9. Michael

Given everything that went down during it, the next few days were one giant blur.

It began the next morning: Sam reappeared in Castle, seemingly unaware that he had been MIA for a good fifteen hours, and despite having just received news that his brother was now number two on the CIA's most wanted list, he was surprisingly calm. Sarah, Casey and I didn't address him on either subject, and none of us were planning on it any time soon.

I could barely breathe thanks to the thick cloud of tension that filled the air during our official debriefing of Sarah and Casey's mini-mission from the day before. With General Beckman staring down at us all like a hawk from the screen, Casey reported how they had watched the storage lockup the weapons for barely fifteen minutes before things had started getting interesting. A white van advertising landscaping services pulled up to one of the units, and half a dozen, well, not landscapers, had exited the vehicle. Two approached the roll up door while the others patrolled the area, and from their position, Casey and Sarah watched the exchange with no direct interference, exactly as they were told. That's when they had first seen Dean.

Everyone could clearly see Sam tense as blurred pictures of the storage lockup appeared on screen. They showed the thugs as Casey had described (I was surprised to see they were also accompanied by a single young woman, but I didn't point out the obvious), and the Intersect was kind enough to inform me that the man standing in the centre of it all was Crowley's second in command.

Name: Unknown. Codename: Michael. Extremely dangerous. Contact Winchester upon sighting. Do not approach under any circumstances.

Dean Winchester was shorter than his brother, but just as well built. I could pick up only some minor similarities, given the quality of the picture, but as Sarah flicked to the next photo, my heart thudded. Dean was staring straight at the camera with an expression that mirrored the one I had seen on Sam's face so many times...

"That's when their back up came," Sarah said, picking up from where Casey left off. "Two approached us from behind and alerted the others before we could make a move. We took down five of them – it was clear that they were newbies working for Crowley, given how untrained they were – and restrained one for questioning, by which time Dean and the others had left."

"And what exactly happened to the detainee?" Beckman questioned, raising a thin eyebrow.

"He revealed that Dean's codename was 'Michael' and gave us information that led us to believe the 'Apocalypse' Novak and Masters informed us of should be viewed as a terrorist threat."

"And?"

"And before he disarmed me and shot himself in the head, his final words were, 'Long live the King'."

I shuddered, the rather disturbing image of a man taking such actions clouding my mind.

"We found this at the unit, General," Casey continued, reaching into his pocket and placing a USB on the table. "It's got who knows how many firewalls blocking it –"

"So you were waiting until Christmas to reveal this?" Beckman snapped, glaring down at the object. "Bartowski, do your job and find out what's on that flash drive - we needed the information three weeks ago."

I already had the flash drive in my hand. Reaching into my work bag for my laptop, I pushed open the screen and drummed my fingers against the desk impatiently as I waited for it to start up. Finally, I could actually be useful.

"Winchester, I need you to handle this," the General continued, her tone showing Sam had no choice in the matter. "You are in charge of this mission and now that we know how dire the consequences will be if you fail, you need to step up and do what your country entrusted you with, despite the information that has recently come to light. Do you understand me?"

I spared a second to glance over at Sam, feeling pretty sorry for the guy. If I'd just found out that Ellie was working for an evil guy, I'd need a few weeks never mind hours to adjust.

Sam, on the other hand, seemed as cool and unfazed as ever, which I'll admit, disturbed me even more than some guy blowing his own head off. "Yes, Ma'am. I'll report in with a plan of action as soon as Chuck finds out what's on the flash drive."

The General gave a curt nod before the screen turned black, leaving the four of us alone once more. "We have two days until this 'Apocalypse' goes down," Sam said as he leaned heavily against the desk, "Lives are at risk, as well as who knows what else. Casey, Walker, I need you to be ready. Organise a SWAT to be on call – we don't know how accurate Masters' information was. This thing is a time bomb, and we have no idea what's gonna happen when it goes off."

My fingers froze as they hovered above the keyboard, my mind racing with the thought that a nuclear bomb could go off, or a toxin could be released that would turn everyone within a thirty mile radius into giant lizards, or something worse...

While Casey and Sarah left to complete their various orders, Sam pulled a chair over to me, rolling up the sleeves of the three day old shirt he was wearing and running a hand through his hair. "Relax, Chuck – if anyone can get into this, it's you." For some bizarre reason, the compliment didn't settle me as much as it would've done even a week ago. "The question is: can you handle this without a bottle of Chardonnay?"

Clicking my neck from side to side, I smirked slightly, my fingers gliding over the keys once again. "I think I can handle this one on my own..."

...

Less than an hour later, I was in.

Sitting back and blinking for what felt like the first time during those fifty-four minutes, I happily passed over the laptop to Sam and let him read the information contained on the USB. I ran a hand over my face, frowning as my brain processed what had just happened.

Fifty-four minutes. No, surely it had been longer. I glanced at my watch. 10:49 am. The General had hung up on us around five to, so...

Fifty-four minutes.

For something so valuable, that had been way too easy. And, judging from the frown etched on Sam's face, he thought the same.

"I..." Despite everything that had happened, this was the first time I'd seen my friend entirely speechless. "The date, time and place of when this thing is supposed to go down is sitting right here," he said, gesturing to the screen.

I glanced at it: the twenty-third of May was two days away, and this 'terrorist level threat' was set to go off just after twelve at Burbank Water and Power. That would cause a majority of the city's power to go out...but then what?

"This has got to be fake, right?" I asked with a nervous laugh, scanning over the information once again. "I mean, this was pretty much served to us on a silver platter."

Sam leaned his head on his clasped hands. "I don't know. I mean...it could be, but are we willing to risk it? This is the best – no, it's the _only_ lead we've got. Just think: if they manage to shut down the power and it takes say, a couple of hours to get back online, that's a two hour gap to do whatever they wanted to any building whose power is supplied by this utility."

"But it's _Burbank_ – anywhere a super villain would want to steal from probably has back up generators."

"Yeah, but...there's got to be _something_." Sam pushed the laptop back in my direction and stood. "I'm going to update Walker and Casey on the situation. I need you to get a list of every single place that Burbank Water and Power supplies to."

"But that's gotta be like...a lot of places."

"I don't care, Chuck. The safety of this country, if not the world, could depend on it."


	10. Burbank Power and Water

"If you take the elevator to the fifth floor then head down the first corridor on your right, the first door if Mr. Parker's office," I informed the older woman with an air of faux confidence. A slight wave of guilt washed over me as she smiled and thanked me – I had no idea where I'd just sent her.

"You flashed on anything, Bartowski?"

Cringing slightly, I wondered if there was any way to turn down how obnoxiously loud Casey's voice was over the ear piece I was wearing. "Not yet," I spoke into my watch as subtly as I could. "We've still got twenty minutes until this thing's supposed to go down, after all."

After deciding that the threat to the Burbank Power and Water was legitimate, Sam did just as he promised the General and came up with a plan of action. Sam, Sarah and I would pose as employees of the utility along with four other agents – we didn't know _how_ they were going to shut down the power, after all – while Casey would wait outside with a SWAT team, ready to shut down the building at the first sign of trouble.

Sarah and the General was hesitant to let the Intersect take part in the mission at first, and yeah, I'll admit it, so was I. Crowley's men were ruthless, and if this threat was as bad as it was made out to be... Casey was surprisingly the voice of reason in the end: Sam would be suspicious if I didn't come on the mission, plus I could, and I quote, 'theoretically be useful for once', given there were was a chance that I could flash on something.

So here we were, me and Sarah posing as receptionists, Sam posing as a security officer in the surveillance room so he could keep an eye on the whole building and not run the risk of being recognised by Dean or any of Crowley's other thugs he may have come into contact with over the past few years.

The next fifteen minutes went by without a hitch. I glanced over at Sarah on the other side of the room, raising an eyebrow as I spoke into my watch again. "What happened to bad guys being punctual?"

She chuckled slightly, playing the simple-receptionist-who-had-to-put-up-with-her-co-worker's-lame-jokes-everyday card better than well, and tucked a loose strand of the short brown wig she was wearing behind her ear. "I'm sure everything's going to be –"

With what happened next, that last word was left completely to my imagination.

Without warning, the power shut off, leaving us in complete darkness apart from the stormy daylight that was managed to make its way through the glass doors and the few windows in the reception. The room went into sudden chaos – the two dozen people that were passing through it suddenly panicked. Some ran down the hallway to other rooms, others tried to get out the automatic doors that refused to open, and the rest turned to their phones, only to find their signal was blocked.

"Sarah!" I called out, making my way around the desk to get to her, when a gun was pressed to the back of my head.

"Move and you're dead." The woman's voice was clear, confident, and it didn't even pass my mind that what she was saying a lie.

I tensed, hoping that it didn't count as moving. "Look, I just work here, please don't kill me, I don't-"

"Reach into your pocket and get your key card," she interrupted her voice as smooth and calm as before, "And it would probably be in your best interest to not say another word, hmm, sweetie?"

With a shaking hand, my hand slipped into my suit jacket, past the tranq gun I'd taken for moments exactly like this and straight to the key card. I held it up, a hand reached over my shoulder to grab it, giving away how short my captor was. Any other agent would've been able to take her down there and then, gun pressed to their head or not. Lucky for her, I wasn't any other agent.

The gun was removed from my head, and for a second, I was stupid enough to think I was free. That it until the weapon pressed into the small of my back, urging me forward. "Move and let's keep the whole shutting up thing going."

I glanced around the reception as my stomach sank, trying to catch sight of Sarah or Sam or _someone_, but with the lights off and the chaos Crowley's men – and woman – had created, it was impossible to signal for help without causing suspicion. So, being the good captive I always was, I followed the instructions of the woman and walked towards the offices.

We went down two hallways and up one flight of stairs – maybe I was a little impressed at how well she could navigate the building seeing as it got darker with every turn – before the lights flickered back on. I blinked as I was directed around a corner, barely having time to adjust to the light before I was met with the sight of five men wearing black. My eyes glazed over as I flashed.

Azazel. Merrick. Alastair. Belial. Michael.

I stare at the final man with wide eyes, my face frozen in what no doubt appeared to be an amusing mix of horror and disbelief. The gun pressed to my back was the only thing that stopped me from running there and then.

Of all the hardened criminals I'd faced up to this very point, Dean Winchester was truly the most terrifying. Maybe he wasn't covered in tattoos and maybe he wasn't a freaking giant like half the guys we came across, but as his eyes looked over me and caught mine, they were so empty I might as well have been staring into the black abyss. This man was barely into his thirties and he was already top two on the CIA's most wanted: if that wasn't a good enough explanation of the fear I felt, I don't know what is. Not to mention that now that I was looking at him up close and personal, I could actually see how he and Sam were brothers, and that's what terrified me most of all.

"You just had to choose the wimp, didn't you, Meg..." His voice was low and gruff, like he'd had one too many drinks, and the authority he spoke with made it clear he was in charge. He made a gesture and Meg lowered her gun, walking around to his side and confirming my previous presumptions about her height. He gestured for me to step forward, then gave me a shove when I did so hesitantly. "Take us to the control room, fruit cake," he demanded, the force behind his words more effective than any weapon.

Swallowing thickly, I nodded, my eyes wide and heart racing for three reasons: firstly, out of plain fear for the small yet powerful and unforgiving group that was following me; secondly, because the plan Sam had laid out was going exactly as we wanted; and thirdly, because the seemingly flawless plan could fall apart within seconds if these guys were as good as their criminal records made them out to be...

...

The control room was the only place in the building I could actually get to without getting lost. None of the frantic employees seemed to realise the threat that walked right past their cubicles and offices. It was most likely that they were trying to figure out what had gone so wrong that the Burbank Water and Power ironically lost all power for two minutes.

Despite whatever was distracting them, I guess I felt relief that none of them were getting involved: they'd be dead within seconds, I had no doubt about it, which would lead to more panic and more chaos and more publicity than a top secret mission like this needed.

At last, we reached our final destination and the reason I had been brought along in the first place. Dean gestured to the keypad nonchalantly, leaning casually against the wall as he waited for me to unlock the door for them and ignoring the security cameras, a tell tale sign that he'd already taken care of them.

Despite the reassurance that I was going to get out of this alive, that I was going to be OK – most likely – I couldn't stop my hands from shaking as I reached up to the keypad.

"Don't play the hero, kid," Dean prompted, his slightly warmer tone offering absolutely no reassurance. "Not this time."

Gulping, I entered the six-code digit and was shoved out the way so Meg could swipe my card. The doors opened seconds later with a slight hiss, and I was dragged into the room by Merrick and pushed into a chair. Duct tape appeared moments later, and after my wrists and ankles were secured, a strip was put over my mouth. Merrick chuckled as he examined me a little _too _closely. "You want him dead, boss?" he asked as Dean approached a computer and began typing.

I couldn't help but whimper slightly and squeeze my eyes shut as Merrick raised a gun to my head.

"Drop the gun."

If there was something I could always rely on, it was being rescued in the nick of time.

Sarah sounded _mad_ – at what, I wasn't entirely sure, seeing as it could've been the bad guys, that they'd let the Intersect come this close to dying, or the fact that she'd let Casey convince the General it was a good idea to let me come on this mission in the first place.

Gingerly prying one eye then the other open, I let out a slight gasp at the sight that met me: Sarah was positioned in the corner of the room and had a gun in each hand, one aimed at Merrick, the other at Dean, and she looked like she was willing to fire either one – or both – without hesitation. She didn't seem to process the fact that Azazel, Alastair and Meg all had their weapons on her. "I said drop it!"

"There's five of us, sweetheart, and only one of you – how do you think this is gonna end?" Dean frowned as he continued typing like nothing was wrong.

"Only one?"

For what must've been the third time that day, all hell broke loose. As Sam stepped forward from the shadows and fired, Sarah dropped one of her guns and dragged my chair back behind a pillar. Thudding rather ungracefully to the floor, I ended up under a desk, up far enough to be out of the action but still able to see it as the fire alarm went off, adding sprinklers to the chaos.

Meg and Azazel went down, the former seemingly dead from a gunshot wound to the chest and the latter unconscious. Merrick had managed to knock the gun from Sarah's hand and the two were engaged in a vicious hand-to-hand battle, but Merrick's blood stained shirt assured me Sarah had the upper hand.

Belial had managed to disarm Sam and back him into a corner, and I watched with amazement as my friend managed to block every punch the older man threw, but despite the CIA agent's training, Belial was better. A knee connected sharply to Sam's stomach, followed by a fist, and he doubled over, winded – or so Belial and I thought. In one smooth motion, Sam managed to sweep Belial's feet out from under him, forcing the bad guy down to his level, then delivered a well practiced punch to his temple, knocking him unconscious.

My eyes widened as my friend stood and caught his breath: a red dot appeared on the wall next to his head and moved its way towards his chest. I had to warn him, I _had_ to, but the duct tape prevented me from screaming or at least gesturing for him to get out of harm's way.

Suddenly and seemingly out of nowhere, Dean ran at Sam, tackling him roughly to the floor. They rolled to the side, putting Sam out of harm's way as far as snipers went, but it put him in a vicious hand-to-hand battle with number two on the CIA's most wanted: his brother.

The struggle between them seemed like a well rehearsed routine that hadn't been practiced in a few years, and that made the whole thing even more terrifying to watch. They avoided each others' punches and attempts at an attack with ease, rubbing in my face the fact that these two polar opposite men were _brothers_ and could read each other probably as well as me and Ellie could.

A shout echoed from the other side of the room. I looked over to see Merrick's arm around Sarah's neck, but the life threatening position didn't seem to face her. I cringed as she kicked his knee, causing him to cry out and crumple to the ground, providing the perfect opportunity for Sarah to knock him out. Knowing she was out of harm's way, I looked back to Sam and Dean.

In the few seconds of distraction, Sam had gotten the upper hand over Michael. Dean was clutching his bloody and probably broken nose, and the CIA agent delivered a kick to his stomach, noticing only then the red dot that was following his every move. He dove behind a desk as the door to the control room burst open.

Casey, followed by three members of the SWAT team, filed in. I barely processed them as Casey reported that the building was clear and one headed straight for Meg, instead keeping my eyes focused on Dean.

Sarah appeared at my side and pulled the duct tape off my mouth. "Sniper!" was the only word I said as I looked in the direction of the building opposite, loud enough for Casey to bark orders into his radio. Tearing at my other wrist with my now free hand, I froze as Sam reappeared, the gun in his hand showing that he hadn't gone behind the desk solely for his safety.

Standing up straight despite obviously still trying to catch his breath, he raised the weapon straight at his brother's head. When I audibly let out a gasp, Sarah stopped cutting at my ankles and reached for her own gun, and I shuffled backwards slightly. The cold, murderous look in Sam's eyes was like nothing I had ever seen before...

"What're you doin', Sammy?" Dean questioned in what sounded like disbelief, his hands raised in surrender. He was looking at the gun pointed straight at his forehead with wide eyes, and the look on Sam's bloody face told me that he _really_ wanted to use it.

"Winchester!" Casey shouted, his own gun lowered but at the ready in case he had to use it. "Put down the gun!"

"Yeah, listen to cop-face over here. Put down the gun, Sammy."

"You don't get to call me that!" Sam barked back, shaking slightly. "Not after everything you've done! You don't get to call me that!"

"OK, OK," Dean answered in a significantly softer tone. "Look, I can explain everything. Please, hear me out. You owe me that much."

Sam sneered. "I owe you nothing." Before anyone could move a muscle, he smacked his older brother over the head with the butt of the gun, knocking him unconscious.

Dean slumped to the ground and Sam took a deep, shaky breath before slipping his gun into his waistband. "Take him back to Castle," he ordered to no one in particular, looking anywhere but at the man on the ground. "He can plead his case there."

I attempted to close my gaping mouth and allowed my eyes to follow Sam's movement towards the door. His soaking frame was still tense and shaking, and he wiped roughly at the cut on his head and his bleeding lip as he walked out the door without another word. I glanced over at Sarah, speechless and unsure of what to do.

Casey was the first to break the silence, having missed a majority of the action. "Are you just going to lie there looking like a goldfish, Bartowski, or are you gonna help me move this piece of trash just like we were ordered to?"


	11. Things Start to Make Sense

"He's up," Sarah informed us as she came back into Castle's conference room.

The three of us looked up on this announcement: Casey, from the gun he was cleaning, me, from my thumbs that I had been twiddling for the past half hour, and Sam from the blank tabletop he'd been studying like it held the answers to the universe.

Our chairs scrapped deafeningly against the ground as we made our way through to the interrogation cell Dean was waiting in.

He had been stripped of his jacket, weapons and anything that could pick the handcuffs that were holding his hands behind his back, but this didn't seem to faze him in the least. He was looking around the room like it was the most interesting place he had the chance to be in, not appearing to be the least bit worried that he was about to be interrogated by one of the NSA's best. He looked up as we passed by the window, grinning and even going at far as winking at Sarah.

From his position in front of me, I could see Sam clearly tense, his clenched fists shaking at his sides.

Casey stepped in front of Sam before the younger man could open the door and walk in. "I think it's best if Winchester sit this one out," he said in a low tone, looking over at Sarah.

She did the thing I least expected: shook her head. "No," she said, meeting Casey's stare and ignoring his growl. "He knows him the best and we need to get to the bottom of whatever's going on as soon as possible."

Casey looked Sam in the eye. "Think you'll be able to keep your emotions under control in there, Sammy?"

Sam pursed his lips tightly. "Yes, sir."

Giving a single nod, Casey opened the door to the room but before I could follow him and Sam in, Sarah pulled me back. "Chuck, if you flash on anything, you need to tell us straight away, OK?"

"OK," I agreed. If movies had taught me anything, it was the fact that having taken care of the initial threat, something bigger could most definitely be on its way.

We took up our positions around Michael: Casey was in the seat opposite him, Sarah at his shoulder, Sam had retreated to the far corner, and I leaned against the wall, trying to appear as cool and calm as possible. The smirk on Dean's face as his eyes passed over me told me I wasn't succeeding.

"Sammy," Dean greeted, nodding in his brother's direction, "Beautiful, cop-face, nerd," he said, looking at Sarah, Casey and me in turn. His smirk vanished at our grim expressions and he looked down at the table. "Is Cas – I mean, Jimmy...is he, um," he cleared his throat and looked directly at Sam, as if he was the only person in the room. "Is he dead?"

"That's not important right now," Casey replied, clasping his hands calmly.

"Yes."

I bit my lip as Sam answered briefly and directly, clearly sensing the pain buried beneath his sharp tone.

Dean sighed as he shook his head. "Dammit, Cas, why'd you have to play the hero?" he muttered to himself, his head dropping slightly. "We could've stopped this another way." He pursed his lips and tilted his head as he looked up at Casey. "So, what?" he asked non-chalantly, his sudden attitude change surprising me a little until I remembered he was a psychopath. "Not got any questions for me?"

"Why, Dean-O? You want to admit something?" Casey asked as he moved a little closer to him.

"I've got nothing to admit. I'm innocent."

Sarah's eyes narrowed. "You sure don't act like it."

Dean let out a bark of laughter, his eyes sparkling a little too much for a man that killed people for a living. "Holy crap, and here I thought you would've figured it out by now, what with the A team you're hiding out here."

That caused Casey's usual growl to appear. "Stop wasting my time, Winchester."

"How long did it take you to hack into that flash drive?" he asked, looking at Sam before his eyes rested on me, causing me to shiver slightly. "Well, come on, I assume you're the one that got into it."

"Fifty–" Cringing slightly as I cleared my throat and composed myself, I began again in a slightly more confident tone. "Fifty-four minutes."

"And where, beautiful, did you find said flash drive?"

"In the lock-up."

"But _where_?"

"On the..." Sarah frowned as realisation dawned on her face. "It was in plain sight, right on the shelf by the..."

"Ding, ding, ding! And finally, one of you have got it! Now to catch the rest of you slow-coaches up..." Dean barely opened his mouth to continue speaking before Casey leaned across the table and had him by the scruff, their faces mere inches apart. "Y'know, I usually wait until I at least know someone's name before I get this close to them..."

"Casey!" Sarah shouted, her eyes continuing to dart back and forth as she put together the final pieces of the elaborate puzzle Dean had presented us with. "Think about it, it was easy, everything was too easy. No one would be careless enough to leave that flash drive around, and even if they had, it should've taken days to get into, not an hour. The mission shouldn't have gone that smoothly, not unless –"

"Not unless you had some inside help from little ol' me," Dean concluded, trying to weasel out of Casey's grip as best he could with his hands cuffed behind his back. "You're welcome, by the way..."

"Oh yeah, and what do you call attacking me in the control room?" Sam demanded, making up half the distance between him and the table in one step.

"Snipers, two of 'em on the building opposite. I had to give them the 'fire when you have a clear shot' instruction or this whole thing would've been a giant waste of time. That was the only way I could get you out of harm's way fast enough."

"He's...he's telling the truth," I added, recalling back to the red dot I'd been unable to warn Sam about.

Casey finally released Dean but remained standing, pacing over to the other side of the room while Sarah took the seat.

"From the beginning – we need to hear this whole thing from the beginning."


End file.
